


Blue Flashes

by AwesomeWriterOfNerds



Series: Flashes [1]
Category: Amphibia (Cartoon)
Genre: Animal Attack, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Canon Speculation, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Harm to Children, Male-Female Friendship, Panic Attacks, super powers, this is about that, y'all know that one scene in the first episode where anne's eyes flash blue?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-06-02 18:49:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19447435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwesomeWriterOfNerds/pseuds/AwesomeWriterOfNerds
Summary: Humans are weird. Their arms are too long and ungainly. Their legs are twice the length of frog legs, but they can only jump half the height. Their tongues look shriveled and fragile, like it's diseased. The town is rightfully wary, but the Plantars are learning to live with these oddities during the course of their human guest's stay in their household. But, even they can't get over how, sometimes, a human's eyes flashes blue.





	1. Chapter 1

"Um, Anne, what are you doing?"

Polly had just warded off yet another unsuccessful attempt by Hop Pop to bathe her and was hopping her merry way to the kitchen for a quick victory snack - she's thinking coco-covered maggots today - when she stumbled upon quite an odd sight. Anne was lying face down on the living room floor, her butt raised in the air, her arm shoved underneath a drawer, and her face scrunched up like she's taking a dump after a bowl of grub at pre-makeover Stumpy's. Whatever weird human ritual she's doing, it definitely took up all of her focus, since a solid five seconds passed before she mustered up a reply.

"Dropped my phone," she replied, followed by a grunt. Her arm was doing a lot of finagling around under that drawer. "Slid under this, _ugh_ , stupid drawer."

Ah, okay, that made sense. Not some weird human ritual, then.

With a growl, Anne pulled her arm out and sat back on her knees. She made a face upon noticing the coat of dirt and dust on the hand that she stuck under the drawer, and hastily wiped it off on her skirt. "How deep did that stupid thing go?!" She leaned down again, peering into the small gap between the ground and the drawer. "And it's too dang dark to see anything!"

Polly nodded, a short hum leaving her lips. She'd been in that predicament a few times before, and each time it sucked. Her tiny little nubs didn't help matters any ( _Frog_ , she couldn't wait until she's all grown-up). "Well, good luck with that," she said, before turning around and hopping away, because this was none of her business. Her coco maggots await.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Polly was stopped in her tracks when one of Anne's gangly limbs blocked her path. Before she realized what was going on, Anne had scooped her off of the floor. "Here's an idea!"

"Wha- hey! I did not consent to this!" Polly cried, wriggling wildly in Anne's hands, but it wasn't enough to loosen Anne's grip. Polly's protests fell on deaf ears, too. Carelessly, Anne dropped her upside down beside the drawer. She glared daggers up - or, down - at Anne, but even that got ignored.

Anne knelt next to the drawer and pointed to the gap underneath it, wearing a too-wide smile. Was she not seeing an upside down polliwog in front of her? "I'll lift the drawer up just enough to make a bigger gap. Then, you can hop in there and grab my phone."

Polly righted herself, her glare softening into more of an annoyed frown. Her eyes went from Anne to the drawer. Even from looks alone, Polly could tell the it was heavy - too heavy to be lifted with your bare hands. It was made from solid ironwood, Hop Pop had told her once (not sure why she remembered), several inches thick, and six stacks tall. Heck, it's probably the sturdiest thing in the whole dang house. If Anne had noticed the issue, then it didn't stop her from squatting in front of the drawer and firmly gripping its underside with both hands.

Polly rolled her eyes. "Anne..."

"Ready? One, two, three!" With a heave, Anne pushed her legs against the floor, straining to actually lift the drawer. A for effort, but predictably, it didn't budge.

Polly stared in amusement, a small smirk on her lips. "Pretty sure that thing is bolted to the floor." It was either this one, or the one in Hop Pop's bedroom.

"I'm doing it!" Anne exclaimed, definitely not doing it, and definitely not hearing what Polly just said. "Just gotta lift with my back, and-!"

She cut herself off with a grunt, going for another attempt. Polly had to admit, the first minute was pretty amusing to watch. Anne makes the best faces when she felt like no one was looking. She even had almost forgotten about her coco maggots during that time. The second minute, not so much. It got a bit hard to just stand there while Anne was genuinely giving her all in trying to lift the drawer. Especially once it became very clear that Anne will hurt herself before the thought of stopping crossed her mind.

Fun's fun while it lasted.

"Anne, stop, that's not going to work," Polly said. This time, it looked like Anne heard her, because she paused. Froze, even. Her eyes slowly grew wider, distant, and genuinely fearful, and Polly was suddenly afraid she'd said something wrong.

"No, no, no!" Anne shook her head furiously. She clenched her eyes shut, restarting her attempt with twice the effort behind it. "I _can't_! I _cannot_ lose my phone!"

Polly inched back, surprised. During the few weeks that Anne had stayed with them, Polly had never seen her act quite like this. It reminded her, almost, to the time Anne's phone died (even if she still wasn't sure exactly what that meant). Anne's breathing became short and clipped. Droplets of sweat began to soak her forehead and neck. Tears welled up at the corners of her eyes. Her hands gripping the drawer started trembling, but she never let go. She never stopped trying to lift it. If anything, her next attempt was almost manic.

"Can't-! Have to-! _Get it_! _Back_!"

Polly was still only a polliwog, but she'd seen panic attacks before. And Anne's having it. Anne's having it _bad_.

Polly did the only thing she could think of. She hopped closer to Anne and started screaming in her ear, because she was still only a polliwog.

"Anne! Calm! Down!" she yelled with each hop. "Look, I'll find a broom and-"

Anne's eyes shot open. Her pupils flashed a bright blue.

Polly's words died in her throat.

Once again, Anne pulled. A guttural growl left her throat, and it grew into a harsh scream, and it grew into a terrifying roar. The legs of the drawer creaked like they're in pain, the wood bent nearly to the point of breaking. Apparently, this drawer _was_ the one that was bolted to the floor. And those bolts flew out of place, one by one, shooting off wildly all over the living room. One nearly grazed Polly. As Anne's voice hit a crescendo, she had lifted the drawer up to her thigh, creating a more than enough gap for Polly to grab Anne's phone. Except Polly was rooted in place, her mouth hanging open, staring at Anne in shock and awe.

"Polly! Grab it! Quick!" Anne's words were harsh, like a slap in face, bringing Polly out of her reverie.

Polly hurriedly hopped under the drawer, picked up Anne's phone, and hopped out. "Got it!"

Anne lets go of the drawer with a cry, stumbling back and falling on her butt. The drawer landed with an echoing boom. Polly could've sworn the whole house shook for a moment. Anne shook her hands, hissing in pain and muttering softly to herself. Polly quietly let her take a moment to recover. She deserved it, after doing _that_. She held the phone out to Anne, for her to take when she was ready.

A moment passed. Anne's face lit up when she saw Polly holding up her phone. She snatched it out of Polly's nubs like it's a priceless jewel, and nuzzled it against her cheek. "Oh, my baby, sweetheart, I am so, so sorry!" she cooed, almost breathless, but at least she did it with a smile. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "Momma's never gonna treat you bad again, you hear me?"

Anne breathed a huge sigh of relief, collapsing onto her back. She closed her eyes, clutched her phone tight with both hands, and held it close to her heart. The sight almost made Polly forget that only moments ago she ripped a drawer of solid ironwood out of the floor _with her bare hands_. Almost.

Then, as if nothing crazy didn't just happen, Anne rose to her feet and walked away with a skip in her step. "Thanks a ton, Polly!"

Before Polly had a chance to say anything, Anne had already retreated into her cellar-bedroom. Polly was left alone to process what she just saw. Or, at least, attempt to. Her gaze wandered to the drawer, now lying half-sunken into the floor. No frog could've done that on their own.

"Y-yeah. Don't mention it."

Humans are weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Amphibia's pretty good so far, huh? I'm certainly enjoying myself with it. Decided to jump into the theorizing rabbit hole early with this one. Fingers crossed it's the right hole.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but it ran a bit longer than I thought it would, enough to split it up into three chapters, so that's exactly what I did. Besides, I wanted to get something out about this theory before the season finale debunked it or something.
> 
> But seriously, if this theory does come true, then this show really is an isekai anime.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, his webs aren't actually spiderwebs?"

Today was a quite a big day for Hopadiah Plantar. He's got a big delivery of fresh vegetables to make to Felicia's Tea Shoppe - a dozen barrels of it, Felicia must be brewing for something big - and there was no time to lose. Every customer has a weird quirk that Hop Pop had come to recognize over the years, and Felicia's was that she's a big fan of speed, and she's not afraid to show it. Simply put; the faster you deliver to her, the more likely you'd get a bonus of some kind - the kind that could pay for a good meal, or for this month's taxes. He decided to take a chance and leave Sprig and Polly in charge of the farm for the day - with rules and restrictions set _firmly_ in place, of course - to teach them about the value of responsibility and whatnot. He dragged Anne along for the trip, mostly for the help with loading and unloading the barrels onto the rickety cart (Hop Pop swore, the darn thing was _this_ close to breaking apart). Anne wasn't happy about it - teenagers these days are so predictable, even ones from another world - but it was for the best. If worse comes to worst, then having only two of his kids ruining the farm would be better than three.

And so, with all the vegetables loaded, they were off on Bessie. Hop Pop couldn't help but smile. The day was looked bright, in every sense expect for the literal. The darkening clouds made him wish he brought a tarp to cover the barrels, but he was confident they'd reach Felicia's before rain falls. Anne was done grumbling about the trip, now content to lie down on the back in silence, fiddling with her magic phone box. The silence between them was quite pleasant, and continued to be so throughout the trip. At some point during the trip, while glancing back to check on her, Hop Pop caught sight a very interesting picture on Anne's phone that captured his interest. Out of curiosity, he asked Anne about it. The way Anne's eyes lit up piqued Hop Pop even more, and he suddenly found himself being subjected to a crash course on the topic of 'superheroes'.

"Well, in some versions, it is. Not in this current version," Anne answered, lying on her back, gesturing wildly, enthusiastically, with her hands. "See, he made the webs himself with chemistry and, like, _science_ because he's also this super genius kid even before he got his powers."

Hop Pop hummed, nodding. Truly, the wonders of the human world seemed endless. "Folks over there must've saw spiders in a very different light."

"Oh, no, people are still _terrified_ of those creepy little things." Anne rolled to one side and propped herself up on one elbow to look at Hop Pop. "It's actually a pretty common phobia."

Hop Pop frowned. That was weird. "Then _why_ is he as famous as he is in your world?”

Anne shrugged. "Dude, I have no ide-"

She was cut off when Bessie suddenly jerked to a halt. Hop Pop was nearly knocked out of his seat, while Anne lost her balance, her face planting hard on the snail’s shell. Pain suddenly flared from Hop Pop's back. It felt like something slid out of place back there, leaving gripping the seat and staying as still as he could to at least ease the pain. With the pain, embarrassment bubbled to the surface as well. A tiny bump, and it reduced him to this state. He could've taken that kind of bump just fine a mere ten years ago. Hop Pop gritted his teeth and held back a cry of pain. No need having Anne worried about him.

Anne picked herself back up with a groan, rubbing her nose. "Bessie? What's wrong, girl?"

Hop Pop saw the problem first, even while in pain. A massive tree had fallen across the road, blocking any path forward. A giant red cedar, if Hop Pop had to guess. It seemed to have been ripped out of the ground, roots and all. Looked quite fresh, too. It must have happened earlier in the day, yesterday at most.

Of course. Of _course_ this tree fell today, of all days, and on this stretch of road, of all roads. The road where the only alternate route was a winding path through the forest, and that was after backtracking quite a ways back. Might as well kiss that bonus payment goodbye. Anger rose within him, but it quickly dissipated. Getting angry wouldn't change a thing. The only thing to do was accept it, and move on.

"Just our luck." Hop Pop sighed.

Anne waved nonchalantly. "This is no big deal. Just circle around it, H.P. Nothing wrong with a bit of off-roading. Bessie can totally handle it." She leaned over the side to pat Bessie's shell and cooed, "Don't you, girl?"

Bessie cooed back - the old girl agreed, and that brought a small smile to Hop Pop's lips. Unfortunately, there was another problem. "Bessie can, but the cart can't," he pointed out, gesturing to the ramshackle contraption tethered behind Bessie. The darn thing was barely kept together by a patchwork of anything that Hop Pop could get his hands on for cheap from Loggle - the stuff that even the woodworker wouldn't touch. It would not survive off-roading of any kind. And while losing out on the bonus was bad, completely missing the delivery would be catastrophic. Hop Pop wasn't going to take that risk.

"Oh, right, right." Anne placed a hand under her chin, a low hum leaving her lips. "I can try pushing the tree off the road?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Anne. Look at the size of that thing!" Hop Pop shot her a look, incredulous. She's got quite a bit of strength in her, sure, but not enough to push a tree at least thirty inches in diameter. "I'd kill to have bones half as sturdy as that. Seriously."

Honestly, he’d do it for less. Much, much less.

"No, see, I read somewhere that a tree would only fall over like this because the inside's gone all brittle. Or, something like that." Hop Pop didn't know enough about trees to dispute it, but that still don't sound right. Anne didn't look too sure about it herself. "Point is, it should be lighter than it looks."

Hop Pop blew a long breath. "It's okay, Anne. Money's just going to be tight this week." They had no other choice, they had to take the longer route around. A shame, since he’d been counting on the bonus from this delivery to make ends meet. Served him right for relying on uncertain bonuses to keep the family afloat, he supposed. Hop Pop forced a smile to show to Anne, hoping she couldn't tell how fake it was. "But, we've been through it plenty of times before. We'll manage."

Anne's gaze fell, and Hop Pop hoped it wasn't because she recognized the fake smile. He pulled on Bessie's reins, getting her ready to turn around. “In the meantime, I’ll send word about this to the mayor.” He cringed inside just from saying that. The idea of handing over any kind of responsibility with that toad didn't sit right with him. “With any luck, it’ll be cleared by the end of next week.”

He craned his head over his shoulder to look behind him, but the act sent another sudden flare of pain surging forth. "Frogging hell!" he cursed, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could catch himself.

Anne immediately shot up, worried. "Whoa! You okay, Hop Pop?"

"Fine, I'm fine." Hop Pop hissed, eyes closed. He didn't look as fine as he claimed to be, he just knew it. "My back's acting up again."

After a few moments, the pain subsided, enough for him to ease back on his seat. Hop Pop opened his eyes, and realized with a start that Anne was no longer on Bessie. Looking around - slowly, he didn't want to upset his back even more - he saw her striding purposefully towards the tree blocking their path.

"Anne! What in Frog's name are you doing?" Hop Pop called out. Though, he already had a guess.

“Come on, it won’t hurt to try!" Anne offered him a confident smile over her shoulder. "We already got this far, we can’t just throw in the towel and go back to the farm.”

“Yes, it can. Very badly, Anne,” Hop Pop countered. “And who said anything about going back?”

But Anne was clearly no longer listening. Now standing before the felled tree, it was like she's in a world of her own. She rushed through a round of stretches, rubbed her hands together before placing them on the tree, shifted her feet into the right stance, took a deep breath, and braced herself. "And a one, and a two, and-!"

With a grunt, Anne began pushing with all her might. Her feet dug into the mud. Her fingers clawed for the best grip on the tree's rough surface. Her face showed exactly how much effort she put into it, how much strain she's putting herself in. It almost made Hop Pop wish the tree would move from Anne's sheer determination alone, but just like he thought, the tree didn't budge, not even by an inch. But, that didn't stop Anne from keeping at it. From pushing with all her heart and all her strength, like her life depended on it. On one hand, her gumption and optimism was admirable, but on the other hand, she really needed to learn when something was a lost cause. Sometimes, banging your head against the wall would only lead to a headache, or worse.

Eventually, after five minutes filled with Anne grunting, wheezing, and gasping, Hop Pop decided enough was enough. “Anne, please, stop. This is very noble of you, and I appreciate that, but it's really okay.”

With a gasp, Anne practically collapsed against the tree, panting heavily. Sweat now ran freely down her forehead and her back, wetting her clothes. The light in her eyes died a little. It killed Hop Pop to do it, but it had to be done. They needed to go now if they want to have any chance of making it back to the farm by sundown.

“No, no, wait, maybe... maybe I..." Anne sputtered between gasps. Suddenly, the energy returned to her eyes, and quickly spread to rest of her body. She pushed herself off of the tree, standing tall once more. "Maybe I just need a running start!”

Anne jogged back a few paces, then fell onto one knee, with her hands at her sides steadying her. She closed her eyes, even started controlling her breathing. She's seriously going all in with this, and that got Hop Pop worried. This could only end with Anne hurting herself. He had to put his foot down and put an end to this, now.

“Anne Boonchuy, you get back on this snail this ins-!”

Anne’s eyes shot open. Her pupils flash a bright blue.

Hop Pop's words died in his throat.

Anne took off in a sprint, quickly gaining speed even in such a short distance. With the tree, her target, growing closer, she shifted her position, placing her right shoulder at the front of her body. She intended to ram the tree with her whole body, Hop Pop realized. He should be yelling, screaming at her to stop, or maybe even do something drastic, but he simply couldn't muster the words. The flash of blue still had him reeling. Now, whether he liked it or not, he found himself more than a little curious to see what would happen next. To see if this attempt would lead to something different. The distance between Anne and the tree grew smaller, and smaller, and smaller, until finally, the moment of impact came. 

The tree didn't move.

The tree was _split in half_.

A sound not unlike the crack of thunder filled the forest. Chunks of bark and wood flew everywhere. Splinters burst into the air and scattered into the wind. The two split pieces of the tree were knocked from where it once was, not quite off of the road, but it still made enough of a gap that a snail could pass through. And, standing inside that gap, was Anne. She heaved heavy breaths, letting loose low hisses in between. She clutched her right shoulder, the sleeve of her shirt gaining a few more rips from the impact. Her face was twisted into a wince of pain, her form slightly hunched over. But, otherwise, she was completely fine. She even still had it in her to offer Hop Pop a grin.

"See? Brittle."

Hop Pop was still at a loss for words, but he did his best to reply. "Y-you... you just..."

"Yeah." Nonchalantly, Anne glanced at the two halves of the tree. That she _snapped in half_. "S'not what I had in mind, but I guess it did the trick."

As if nothing extraordinary had just happened, Anne strolled back towards Bessie. Hop Pop couldn't keep himself from flinching when Anne climbed onto the seat next to him. If Anne noticed it, then she didn't show it.

"Alright, move over," she said.

It took a few seconds for Hop Pop to process her words. "Wh- move?"

"Your back's hurting again, right? You should relax, Hop Pop, take a load off," Anne continued. The smile on her lips looked so genuine, and so jarring after the display of strength that Hop Pop had just witnessed. "I'll handle everything; the driving, the delivery, the whole shebang. And I won't mess it up, promise."

Hop Pop had to admit, a lie down would be _heaven_ right now. He gingerly accepted Anne's hand and allowed her to guide him to the back seat of Bessie. Slowly, she helped him ease himself down onto the cushion, careful not to upset his back even more. Once Anne was satisfied with fussing over Hop Pop's position - honestly, he hurt his back, he's not dying - she returned to the driver's seat, took hold of Bessie's reins, and urged the snail forward. As they moved past the scene of Anne's handiwork, Hop Pop found himself staring at the back of the human girl he'd taken in, at the creature that he knew next to nothing about. Was this normal for humans? Were all humans capable of such feats of strength? Was that why Anne acted so casual after?

Truly, the wonders of the human world seemed endless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you can't tell, superheroes are my jam.
> 
> And _wow_ , this fic got way more attention than I thought it would ever have. Thanks a ton for that, y'all. It's been a blast to see that so many of you are onboard with this idea. Hopefully, now that you've seen a glimpse of how superpowered Anne is going to be, you guys would still be onboard with it.
> 
> One more to go. See you until then.


	3. Chapter 3

Today had started out so simple.

The Plantar family was on their way back from yet another tedious, but necessary trip to the Archives - for Anne's sake - when Sprig suggested that, hey, why not have a little picnic out here in the plains? It was a beautiful day outside, they packed a decent selection of food with them, and as far as Sprig was aware, nobody had anything planned for the day, so why not, right? And he was right, because Anne, Polly, and even Hop Pop agreed almost immediately. They settled down on a good spot, let Bessie loose nearby to wander and graze, unfurled the picnic rug, unloaded the picnic food, and proceeded to do pretty much everything you'd do in a picnic. Eating, chatting, joking, a lot of laughing, a little bit of crying - but that was mostly because of Hop Pop's killer peppers - and all in all, having a good time. Things winded down once the food was finished, but nobody was in any hurry to pack up and leave. So not-in-a-hurry, in fact, that Hop Pop and Polly curled up next to each other and fell into a nap. That left him and Anne to their own devices.

That was when the day turned from simple to not-so-simple.

They had nothing weird or grand or outlandish in mind, at first. They were content to lay on their backs, watching fluffy white clouds roll and roil against the clear blue sky, enjoying each other's silent company. However, it was during this time that Sprig noticed a peculiar silhouette darting among the blue and white, before making landfall in a nearby forest. It was definitely a bird of some kind, and quite a large one, but not a bird that Sprig instantly recognized. His interest piqued, Sprig suggested they go take a closer look because, hey, what if it was a rare bird that had never been seen before? They could be famous throughout all of Amphibia! Anne shrugged, and decided to tag along, because she liked birds well enough, so this should be fun.

It wasn't fun, because that bird was a heron. And it was extremely violent and extremely hungry.

Sprig narrowly missed death only by Anne pulling him by the scruff of the neck out of the way of the heron's descending beak. It took a beat for the realization of what he led them towards to fully settle in, and by the time he regained his bearings, he found himself clutched against Anne's chest as she ran and screamed like there was no tomorrow. Which, right now, was a very real possibility for both of them.

The heron screeched, quickly giving chase. Its long legs gave it a massive advantage over them - even over Anne - allowing it to always be a second behind no matter how fast they ran. Its massive size meant the trees posed no problem for the bird, easily knocking and cutting them down as it hunted its prey. Even if they got smart and darted around the denser trees, any distance they gained could be covered by the heron in a heartbeat. The falling trees also provided another life-threatening hazard. Sprig joined Anne's screaming when one came within inches of crushing them both.

By some miracle, they broke the heron's line of sight and stumbled upon a hollow root within moments of each other. Anne scrambled inside, bringing Sprig with her, and both of them held their breaths. This place won't be safe for long, but a temporary shelter was better than no shelter.

"What the heck is that thing?!" Anne hissed through clenched teeth. She was freaking out, which was a perfectly valid reaction to meeting a heron for the first time. Or, really, any other time you meet a heron.

It also reminded Sprig of just how new she was to this world, to its wonders and dangers. "That's a heron." He was careful to keep his voice low. Don't want to make it easier for the beast to find them. "Weird, they don't usually wander this close to Wartwood. Something must've driven it here."

"Well, screw whatever that something is." Anne spat. "What else do you know about herons?"

He knew quite a bit. Herons were one of the first things that a young frog was taught growing up. "They are extremely territorial, they have a tendency to swallow its prey whole, and they have an insatiable hunger for flesh."

"None of that is helping!" Anne snapped.

"Oh, you want the helpful bits?" Sprig blinked.

Anne rolled her eyes. " _Yes._ "

Sprig tapped his chin, thinking hard. "I remember reading somewhere that when you encounter a heron, you should..."

"Yeah?" Anne leaned forward.

"Be as quiet as possible, curl into a fetal position, and pray that it doesn't find you."

Anne collapsed against the wall of the confined space, planting a palm against her forehead. "God, what is _wrong_ with this world?

"Do you want that chronologically or alphabetically?"

Any retort Anne might have had was silenced when the heron's foot stomped down hard next to their hiding spot. Its beak jabbed at the roots, chipping away and pulling out bits of the only thing protecting Sprig and Anne from the heron. They both screamed, scurrying outside, narrowly missing the space collapsing behind them as the heron ripped out a large chunk of wood from the root. They went back to running for their lives, and the heron wasted no time give chase once again. The distance between them grew smaller and smaller by the second. Outrunning a heron on foot was almost impossible - one more thing Sprig had learned about herons. What was not-so-impossible, however, was outrunning a heron on a snail.

Sprig scanned the area the best he could, and spotted where the forest ended in the distance. "I think Hop Pop's that-a-way!" He pointed towards the break in the treeline. "It'd be way easier to get away from a heron on Bessie!"

"We can't lead this thing back to Hop Pop and Polly!" Anne barked back. "We gotta lose it first. Somehow."

Sprig was about to share what an impossible task that would be, when he heard a loud _crack_ coming from behind him. After that, silence, the rhythmic thumps of the heron's feet chasing after them nowhere to be heard. Sprig looked over his shoulder, and saw no herons in sight. He almost laughed, barely believing their luck. Apparently, that bird was not as hungry as he thought. Or, it spotted a better prey somewhere. Either way, it was out of their hair, and that's all that mattered.

Sprig breathed a sigh of relief. So much for 'almost impossible'. "Well, that was-"

His words died at the sound of another _crack,_ this time from his front. Sprig spun his head around, just in time to hop face-first into something rough, sturdy, and definitely wasn't there before. He fell on his back, his face sore and his vision swimming with stars. He blinked the stars away, got a clear look of what he ran into, and blanched. It was the heron's talon, who had broken through the treetops to land in front of him, and now had its eyes trained upon him. He realized with a start that it has also cut himself off from Anne - he could see her struggling to her feet on the other side through the heron's legs. It all clicked. The heron didn't leave; it was separating its prey, and picked the weaker one that was easier to catch.

That was actually quite clever of it, and quite bad for Sprig.

The heron dove in. Sprig leapt out of the way of its beak, before hopping away screaming in the opposite direction.

"Sprig! No!" he heard Anne yell, and he's not sure what to do with that. Did she expect her to stop running? Because, no thanks, he'd like to stay alive.

No, he kept hopping. Which direction he was headed didn't matter, as long as he kept hopping, as long as he put everything he had towards putting as much distance between him and the heron as possible. Turning left, then right, then right again, then left again, then straight ahead - all he did blindly, completely at random. After a point, he lost track of where Anne was. Heck, he lost track of where _he_ was. But he couldn't afford to worry about that, not when the heron had closed enough distance to rain down fast jabs of its razor sharp beak, and its aim was getting better with each try.

After two quick left turns and a slide under a tangle of vines, Sprig broke into a small clearing and immediately skidded to a halt. Standing tall in front of him was a massive cliff face, too sheer to climb and too wide to run around. He quickly spun around, but it was already too late. The heron burst out of the trees, hungry and frustrated.

Maybe falling into a blind panic wasn't the best idea after all.

The heron screeched, advancing. Sprig backed away until he couldn't anymore. He was cornered, his options rapidly dwindling into zero. The heron seemed to lick its beak, almost like it was enjoying this, enjoying the panic and fear in Sprig's face. It reared back, bared its teeth, and dove in. Sprig curled into a ball, clenched his eyes shut, and prayed it would be quick and painless.

However, after a beat, the moment never came. Or, the moment really was that quick and painless. Curiosity got the better of Sprig, and he cracked an eye open to look. What he saw was something eerily familiar.

Anne was suddenly there, somehow holding back the heron's beak with both hands. The fear that gripped Sprig's heart a moment ago was instantly replaced by joy, relief, and awe. A flurry of words nearly flooded out of his mouth, but all words failed him when Anne whipped her head around to look over her shoulder.

Her pupils were glowing bright blue.

"Sprig, are you okay?!" she cried. Worry was written clear across her features, Sprig noticed, once he managed to look at any part of Anne's face that wasn't her eyes.

Sprig blinked, realizing that Anne had asked him a question. He gave her a thumbs up, forcing himself to speak. "Traumatized, but alive!"

Her worries melted away into relief. "Story of our life." A small, wry smile briefly graced her lips, and only briefly.

Her features darkened into a furious glare, and she directed that glare at the massive beast she held back with her bare hands. Sprig was certain he was the first frog alive to hear a heron squawk in surprise.

"Listen, you overgrown parrot!" she roared. "My bumpkin frog family! Isn't! Food!"

Call him crazy, but he was pretty sure the heron was now trying to pull its beak _away_ from Anne.

Anne twisted her footing to one side, her sock-covered foot digging deep into the mud, and pulled. Try as it might, the heron couldn't break free from Anne's grip in time. She drove its beak into the cliff face, just to Sprig's left - Sprig yelped and scooted away. Anne stepped back, leaving the heron stuck, its talons scrambling to try and pry its beak free of the cliff face. She balled her hand into a fist, and dove back in to deliver a fast jab to the heron's eye. The heron squawked in pain, muffled thanks to its beak stuck in a cliff, and stumbled, almost losing its footing. Not satisfied, Anne leapt into the air and, with a scream, dropped her elbow on the base of the heron's head. The heron crashed onto the ground on its side with another squawk, dazed, but still very much alive.

Sprig thought that was that, and they would use the chance to escape, but one look of Anne's face made it clear that she wasn't done, not yet. She wrapped her arms around its long neck, and with a heave, lifted the heron off the ground and pulled. Its beak was torn out from the cliff, the section it left behind collapsing. The heron, still stunned and in pain, did not offer Anne any meaningful resistance. Sprig could barely believe his eyes when Anne began to spin in place, dragging the heron with her by the neck, its body trailing behind smashing against trees and cliffs alike. Anne rapidly gained speed, spinning once, twice, thrice, before-

" _Yeet_!"

With that fearsome battle cry, Anne launched the beast skyward. The beast sailed over the treetops, far, far over the horizon, until it disappeared from sight. Anne panted, standing tall, glaring at the horizon, wiping away a speck of dirt on her cheek with the back of her hand. Sprig could only stare in awe, wonder, and maybe a little bit of fear. He flinched when Anne's head whipped towards him, eyes still glowing bright blue. He shrank when she suddenly stomped her way over to him.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Anne asked, her voice gentle. Her glowing eyes dimmed until they returned to its natural color.

Sprig remembered, this was Anne. His friend. His _best_ friend. Still, Sprig could only muster a nod.

"Good, because we gotta scram." Anne shot a wary glance over her shoulder. "Before that thing shows up again."

Sprig nodded again. This time, he found his voice. "Good idea. Herons usually wander in pairs."

"Hmm! Don't like that!" 

Sprig trailed after Anne as they ran - and hopped - as fast as their legs could carry them through the forest. The scene he had just witnessed played again in his head, and again, and again, and again. Over and over, his sense of amazement climbing higher and higher each time. He stared at the back of his friend as she led the way. His best friend. His super, _super_ strong, human best friend.

Humans are cool!

They emerged from the forest without further incident. They could see Hop Pop and Polly in the distance, still napping in peace, and Bessie still grazing nearby without a care in the world. They shared a look, shared a short laugh, before immediately collapsing to the soft grass.

"Anne, that was _amazing_!" Sprig shot up to a sitting position. He was still pumped too full of adrenaline to lie down for long.

Anne breathed out a sigh, craning her head to look at him. "That was pretty cool, huh?"

"Pretty cool? _Pretty cool_?" Sprig was baffled. Talk about understatement of the year. "Anne, that was legendary! That was like the stuff the old heroes get up to in bedtime stories and folk tales!"

Sprig rose to his feet. He's got way too much energy still. "You- You stopped the heron's beak with your bare hands! You punched it, twice! And then you chucked it into the sky like it was nothing!" He clutched his head in his hands. Even the memory of it was mind blowing. "How did you even manage to do that?!"

"I'm... not sure?" Anne raised her hands to her line of sight, her eyes narrowing on them. She turned them over a few times, as if a better answer would be hidden in her palms. "I guess birds have, like, hollow bones or something, right? That's why I was able to pull that off?"

"I have exactly zero knowledge on avian anatomy," Sprig replied. Stuff like that wasn't included back when he was learning about herons.

Anne closed her palms into fists, and let them both fall to her sides. She stared at the open sky, her eyes heavy with an emotion that Sprig couldn't quite place. "Yeah. Yeah, that must've been it."

Oh! And how could he have forgotten? "And that amazing battle cry at the end!" Sprig had never heard of one like it before. Must be a human one. He'd definitely use it the first chance he got. "It was _so cool_!"

For some reason, Anne snorted. "Uh. Yeah. Sure." She looked away, trying to hide a smile. "Battle cry."

"Oh man, wait til Hop Pop hears about this!" Sprig gasped in realization. "Wait until _Polly_ hears about this!"

Anne propped herself up with her elbows halfway to a sitting position. "You sure about that? Telling him that we ran into a heron when he wasn't looking? I feel like that's the heart attack that'll definitely get him to, y'know, keel over."

Sprig deflated. That's a good point. "But what you did was so cool..."

"And it'll always be cool, and you can always go off about how cool it was." Anne smiled, looking very pleased with herself for a moment. "Just, maybe we should embellish some things before this gets to Hop Pop."

"Alright. Deal."

Sprig extended a hand, and they shook on it. With a grunt, Anne pushed herself to her feet. They cleaned themselves up the best they could before making the short walk back to their picnic spot. They should wrangle Bessie over and wake Hop Pop and Polly up now if they wanted to make it back to the farm before it gets dark out.

Wait! There was one more thing Sprig forgot to mention!

"Oh! And the glowing eyes are a nice touch."

It took a him a few seconds to realize that Anne had stopped walking a few paces behind him.

"The glowing what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Anne dabs, then she absolutely would also yeet.
> 
> Hey, remember in the last chapter, I said that we've only got one more to go? Just kidding! There's actually another chapter after this. The ending of this one was too juicy to be left alone. Think of it as an epilogue, of sorts. Plus, it'll be a lot fun to see how _Anne_ reacts to her powers this time around.
> 
> It'll be a while before that happens, though. I have a couple different projects I wanna work on first. Hope y'all won't mind.


	4. Burning Blue

“Oh! And the glowing eyes are a nice touch.”

Those were the words that started it all. Anne had always been suspicious that something was different, that something had changed within her ever since she got transportalized to this world. She’d tried to ignore it, for a time; chalking it up to stress playing tricks with her mind. Now, in hindsight, she couldn’t quite place the exact reason why she’d denied it. Maybe to maintain whatever semblance of normalcy her life had left? The reason no longer mattered, anyhow. Those words, Sprig’s words, meant she couldn’t ignore or deny it any longer.

Super strength. She’s got it. Like the superheroes she’d watched on the big screen for most of her life.

It was pretty funny, actually, explaining to Sprig that no, a human’s eyes shouldn’t glow, blue or otherwise. Doubly funny when she had to explain it _again_ to Hop Pop and Polly. _Triply_ funny when she realized the only reason the Plantars never bothered her about it was because they assumed it was a perfectly normal human thing to do. Anne nearly laughed herself breathless, but it made sense. Of course they wouldn’t know that a human shouldn’t be able to ram a tree in half, or yeet a heron into the flipping sun. She was the only human they had ever met. In a way, it was another reminder of how different she was from them, and how little they knew of each other’s worlds, even after nearly three months – god, it really had been three months – of living together. 

Now, if she could figure out how to use her superpower on command, that’d be peachy.

Of course, there had to be one final hitch, one last hill she had to climb to make her life just a little bit harder. No fancy super strength would do her much good if she didn’t even know how to turn it on. Worse, her only real lead came from what the Plantars had witnessed. When her eyes flashed blue, an incredible feat of strength would follow. That was it. Not a hint to why nor how she did it. Heck, it was generous to even call that a lead.

Hop Pop didn’t think she should fret so much; said that she’d discover the answer in time, if she was patient, if she let the matter to rest. Anne thought he’d say something like that – he’d said the same thing about the music box, after all. But this was different than with that stupid box. Some gut instinct told her this was a mystery she could solve on her own (for whatever that’s worth, a distant, pessimistic corner of her mind added, but she forced herself to not dwell on it). She felt like she could know more. Had to, even. 

Also, having honest-to-god superpowers would be all kinds of dope.

Anne’s first thought was she could try replicating the events that caused her eyes to flash blue the first time. She lifted – or, at least, tried to lift - all the furniture in the house that should be too heavy for her on her own, especially ones that were bolted down. The day ended with her back sore, her fingers throbbing, and her chest uncomfortably tight, choking back tears of frustration, and no blue flashes. The next day, she punched trees, and kicked them, and rammed them, and clawed them, and angrily, desperately shook them until Hop Pop had to physically wrestle her inside the house. She spent the rest of the evening getting a lecture from Hop Pop about patience or some junk, while he bandaged her bleeding knuckles. Anne only half-listened, already planning her next move. With two down, the only event left was-

Anne decided not to finish that thought until Hop Pop was out of the room.

Once the coast was clear, she pulled Sprig into a huddle and explained to him her plan. She couldn’t blame him when he stared at her like she’d just lost her mind.

In the end, Sprig convinced her that finding another heron would be too much. But, if there was anything this world had plenty of, it was dangerous creatures that could kill her without a second thought. Maybe not on the same level of danger as herons, but ones that would be enough to somehow ‘trick’ the blue flashes.

Honestly, it was a little alarming how fast Sprig could answer when she asked if he knew where the nearest one was. And it was a _lot_ alarming when he said one existed smack dab in the middle of Wartwood.

* * *

“I don’t feel good about this, Anne,” Sprig finally admitted, after spending most of the walk fidgeting, fiddling with the fabric of the sack slung over his shoulder, and hemming and hawing to himself.

Anne smiled wryly. At least he had the courage to lay it out in the open. If she was being perfectly honest with herself, she felt the same way. Hop Pop had them head to town to buy some feed for Bessie, like he did every week, and Anne decided this was the perfect opening for them to enact their plan. They were going against Hop Pop’s back, no matter how you look at it. She thumbed the leather strap across her chest again, connected to the sheath of the sword – Tritonio’s parting gift – attached to her back. It was less pronounced than Sprig’s tics, but it was enough to help ease her nerves.

“Me too, dude,” Anne said, Sprig blinked twice. He didn’t seem to be prepared for that response. “I’ll make it up to him, promise. Once I get this super strength thing figured out, I’ll- I dunno, I can handle all the heavy lifting around the house for the next month. Literally.”

Sprig lowered his gaze, landing on her bandaged knuckles. “And are you sure you’re ready?” he asked, and Anne couldn’t keep herself from self-consciously rubbing her knuckles. The pain didn’t bother her - it would sting a bit, sometimes, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle – but it reminded her of her breakdown two days ago. Not her proudest moment. “You’re not facing a heron, sure, but that’s a pretty high bar to clear.” The concern in his eyes was so real and so warm; she almost melted on the spot. “You don’t _have_ to do it today.”

“No. But I want some answers, Sprig. This is my first real chance of getting one.” Anne had to look away from those eyes, but every word left her lips with conviction. Nothing could deter her, not even if Sprig decided to take a page out of Hop Pop’s book and started spouting lessons about patience too.

“Alright,” he said, his voice low, sounding like he’s dejected, maybe even hurt, and Anne nearly stopped in her tracks. “Alright,” he repeated, louder, more confident, his eyes meeting hers with all the reassurance she needed. “I got your back, Anne. Always.”

Anne smiled, stretching from ear to ear, because a cheesy line like that deserved it. That was too sweet. _He_ was too sweet. Someone do something before things get too sappy. “‘Sides, we don’t want to keep our ‘informant’ waiting, do we?” she said with a playful elbow, which only met thin air, thanks to the height difference. Still, Sprig got the hint, if the bashful smile on his face were to be believed.

They walked past the town square, turned a corner, and stood to attention at the sight of their destination. A sizable pile of rubble sitting between the general store and house of a resident, with a wooden plank declaring ‘SCHOOL’ in gold being the only hint to what the heap once was. Leaning against the remnants of a wall, with her legs crossed and her hands tucked into the pockets of her overalls, was their ‘informant’. Sprig shoved the sack he was carrying into Anne’s hands and rushed ahead, with both a spring and a stumble to his step.

“Ivy!” Sprig managed a wave. His pink cheeks were a bit pinker than usual. Anne slung the sack over her shoulder, biting back a cheeky smile.

Sprig’s voice and movement caught Ivy’s eye. She pushed off the wall with a friendly wave of her own. “There you are! Was starting to think you were a no-show.”

“It’s called being fashionably late.” Sprig crossed his arms, putting on his best mock-haughty demeanor, but quickly fell into a fit of giggles.

Ivy’s eyes lit up in amusement, before they flitted over to Anne. “And there’s the woman of the hour.” She focused on something over Anne’s unoccupied shoulder, and whistled. “Nifty looking sword you got.”

“Thanks.” Anne reached up to hold the sword’s grip, leaning to the side slightly to give Ivy a better view. It still surprised her how quickly it felt natural to have her fingers around it. But she didn’t come here to show off. She turned her eyes towards the ruined school; the victim of the ‘Millipede Incident’ she’d heard so much about. “So, what’s the story?”

“It’s one you hear a lot in Wartwood.” Ivy hopped, with a front flip for style, onto a snapped beam jutting out from the rubble, easily traversing the length of it with her hands outstretched, while motioning for Anne and Sprig to follow. They complied; Anne climbing over a pile of broken bricks and Sprig hopping onto the beam like Ivy. “One tiny critter wormed its way inside your house, you think it’s no big deal, it’ll wander out eventually, but next thing you know, it’s ruined you and everything you hold dear. In this case, the critter is a millipede, the house is the school, and the ‘you’ is poor ol’ Principal Gillworth.”

Anne knew she was going to hate this, but, “What happened to him?”

“He was among the first to fall,” Sprig answered, without skipping a beat.

Yep. More or less what she expected.

Anne tried not to let her discomfort show as they crested over the top of the rubble pile, where the surface evened out, sort of. Bits of brick and other debris were still jutting out every which way – you need to watch where you’re stepping if you don’t want a nasty tumble. Sprig and Ivy were already ahead a few paces, so Anne hurried the best she could to catch up. From where she stood, she could already see a gap among the rubble – an almost perfect circle where light refused to enter. A pit opened in her stomach at the sight of it.

That hole was where she needed to go. If she wanted to go through with her plan.

They formed a lazy circle around the hole, Ivy being the only one with the stomach to actually peek inside. It took everything in Anne to follow Ivy’s lead, and she immediately regretted it. Inside was just as dark as her first glance would have suggested, maybe more.

“That first one in must’ve been a mommy millipede.” Ivy kicked a loose rock into the hole, the impacts echoing as it tumbled further into the darkness. “It made itself a nest somewhere down there, and her brood’s been harassing us ever since.”

“Wait, _brood_?” Anne recoiled away from the hole like a loaded spring. She’d psyched herself up for _one_ giant millipede, not a whole family of it.

“Don’t worry, we just exterminated the last one that surfaced, so it should only be the mom down there,” Ivy said, before her easy smile was replaced with a frown, brows creased in the doubt. “Actually, I guess it really depends on how fast she can pump them out.”

Terrific. Anne whipped her head towards her supposed best friend. “Sprig! You said this is a step _down_ from herons!”

“It is! Herons are just really, _really_ high up the ladder.” Sprig raised his hands defensively and, whether he realized it or not, put on a pretty convincing impersonation of a kicked puppy. Anne sighed. She couldn’t stay mad at that face.

Ivy shoved her hands into her pockets, blatantly holding back a laugh. “You really didn’t ask around before committing to this, huh? You want to pick a fight with one of the nastiest critters around, armed with nothing but a pointy stick, just because?”

“That… summed it up, yeah.” Anne closed her eyes, cringing to herself. Her plan did sound dumb when it was laid bare like that. She forced her lips to curl into a smile, and hoped it didn’t come across as weak or awkward. “What do you think of my chances?”

“Honest opinion? You’d be dead in seconds.”

Ouch. “C’mon, have a little faith. I’ve had some practice in with this sword. Plus, I did tennis. One of the best swordswoman back in my world used to play tennis, you know.” A dreamy sigh escaped Anne’s lips, despite herself. “She’s an inspiration.”

“Your funeral.” Ivy shrugged. Her tone had Anne convinced she really would be unmoved if Anne died, but the glint of curiosity in her eyes said otherwise. “But Sprig told me you got something more than that pointy stick up those gangly sleeves.”

Anne turned to look at Sprig again, who simply stared back, confused. “What? You never said anything about keeping it a secret.”

And he was right, she realized with a pout.

“If you think you can get this son of a sea slug out of our hair,” Ivy shrugged, though her eyes almost seemed to challenge Anne, “go for it.”

Sprig gasped. “Ivy! Language!”

Ivy giggled, and punched Sprig pretty hard in the shoulder. “Relax. Nobody here but us.”

Sprig laughed; a little too loud to be normal, like he’s trying to hide how much pain he felt. He retaliated with a shove that nearly sent Ivy tumbling into the hole, but she caught herself, and shot Sprig a smug, full-of-herself smirk. Anne would’ve teased them more for being so precious with each other, if she wasn’t preoccupied with the obvious.

“You all set then?” Ivy asked, once she was satisfied roughhousing with Sprig.

Anne blew a breath, peering into the deep, dark hole. At least her stomach didn’t turn at the sight of it anymore. “Almost. Just gotta wait for-”

“Me?”

Anne jumped, Sprig flinched, and Ivy nearly fell down the hole again. Heads turned in the direction of the voice – coming face to face with half-lidded eyes that sent a clear message of how thoroughly unimpressed those eyes’ owner was with the display before her. Even without turning around, Anne still would’ve recognized the distinct throatiness in that voice, once her mind had a moment to connect the dots. Only one frog in Wartwood sounded like that, and to this second, Anne still sorta-hated that she had to bring her into this.

“Dramatic much?” Maddie drawled.

Anne had tried her hardest to act friendly around Maddie, now that Sprig would hang out with her on occasion. Every single time, Maddie would do something to creep Anne out all over again. She swore she learned her lesson. Yes, appearances could be deceiving and all that, but the girl had unnerving people down to an art form.

Still, she sighed, because a part of her was relieved that it was only Maddie. Of all the things Anne would have to face today, she was probably the least likely to kill her. “You are very quiet.”

“I try.” Maddie stretched a hand out, and only now Anne noticed that she’d been holding something in her hands, covered by a dirty rag. “Got what you asked for.”

If Anne wasn’t paying attention before – which she did - then she was now. With little fanfare, Maddie pulled the dirty rag away, revealing a small bowl filled with some kind of black-green soup – and Anne’s using the term ‘soup’ very loosely - with unidentifiable, roughly nugget-shaped chunks of _things_ swimming inside. It looked like the slop they feed you when you die and you end up down in the bad place. As if its appearance wasn’t bad enough, half a second later, the smell assaulted Anne’s nose. She gagged, and nearly lost her breakfast on the spot. Someway, somehow, it smelled worse than it looked. Sprig and Ivy weren’t faring much better.

“What in Frog’s name is that?!” Ivy wailed, muffled slightly by a hand covering her snout, her yellow cheeks gaining a shade of green.

“It’s everything that millipedes hate, mixed together into something borderline evil.” By some miracle, Maddie seemed to be mostly unbothered by the smell, though the way she held the bowl made it apparent she wanted it as far away from her as possible. She fixed Anne with a look one step removed from a glare. “This is _the_ foulest thing I have ever concocted. I hope you’re happy.”

“I’m not.” Anne coughed, covering her nose with the sack she’d been carrying. Its musty smell was a million times better than Maddie’s deadly concoction. “Can this do what we need?”

Maddie stared at her like she’s the biggest idiot in all of Amphibia, before saying, slowly, “Yes. It will absolutely drive millipedes into a frenzy. I guarantee it.”

That was all she needed to hear. Gingerly, Anne held a hand out. “Let me have it, Maddie.”

Anne was prepared to accept the bowl, lying to herself that it wouldn’t be so bad. She was _not_ prepared when Maddie, without warning, dumped the entirety of the bowl’s foul contents against her face. She had her eyes closed – thank her reflexes for that – but she could feel the wetness spreading, the disgusting slop dripping down and soaking into her shirt, her skirt, her _everywhere_. Sprig and Ivy made noises of horror, and disgust, and horrified disgust. Anne wheezed out a puff of air to get some of the drips away from her lips. At least none of it got in her mouth.

“I meant. Like. Hand it over to me. So I can use it myself.”

“This is faster,” she heard Maddie say.

When Anne opened her eyes, she saw Maddie nonchalantly using the rag to wipe the bowl clean, looking to all the world like she didn’t just douse an innocent girl with the world’s most disgusting prison slop, and that Sprig and Ivy had retreated to a safe distance of about five feet. She looked down, seeing black quickly seeping into her ruined school uniform, with unidentifiable black nuggets sticking to her. Well. It was always going to suck. Didn’t really matter how she went about doing it. Better to rip off the band-aid in one go.

“How did they drag _you_ into this?” Ivy asked, once she’d deemed it safe enough for her and Sprig to return. Anne nearly grimaced, and not because of the slop. That story’s a mouthful.

Maddie shrugged. “I find it useful when people owe me.”

Very succinct. She honestly expected something more, something longer. It’d at least give her time to get used to the smell. She’d read somewhere that it took about five minutes to familiarize yourself with a smell, so she’ll get used to it, right? Right?

Anne blew out a breath. She’s just stalling at this point.

“Well.” Anne stepped up to the edge of the hole, hands on her hips. Hopefully, she looked as cool as the image she had in her head. “I’m ready?”

“It’s a terrible plan,” Maddie said, matter-of-factly. “But it’s yours, so what do I know?”

“If anyone can do this, Anne, it’s you,” Sprig was quick to chime in, grinning. If he wanted to give her support, she was happy to say it worked. “I’d hug you, but…” He trailed off with a weak shrug. He didn’t need to finish. She understood.

Sprig still helped her set everything up. Taking out a length of rope from the sack they carried with them, Anne tied off one end around her waist, while he tied off the other end to the closest piece of rubble that looked sturdy enough. She reached over her shoulder, feeling for the sword’s grip to make sure it was still there. It’s silly – of course it’d be there – but the feel of metal and leather against her palm comforted her. Sprig offered up a glowshroom, which she took with her off-hand, and that was that. That was everything.

Anne sat down by the hole, letting her legs dangle above the darkness. Her toes curled in almost by itself. Sprig and Ivy held the rope in their hands, ready to lower her as soon as she gave the word.

“Here I go.”

Her voice pitched higher at the last syllable, but that was her signal. She slid into the hole, the rope around her waist going taut, and began her descent.

“Don’t get eaten,” Sprig warned after her.

Ivy made a noise of agreement “A millipede’s digestive system is notoriously slow.”

“Every moment will be agonizing,” Maddie added, the last word echoing against the walls of the hole.

Anne was already too far down for the frogs to see the baffled look on her face. _Why_? Even if they were telling the truth, _why would they say that_?

“If I get out of this alive, I am _so_ giving them pep-talk practice.”

She’d be pretty good at it. She learned a thing or two while ogling Sasha at cheerleading practice.

When she touched down on solid ground, she took a little more time than she’d like to admit untying the rope around her waist. Her surroundings were dark, but would’ve been pitch black if not for the glowshroom she carried, glowing a gentle blue. Not that there was much to see. To her front was nothing but a wall of rock and dirt. To her left and right, same thing. Behind her, however, a tunnel, just big enough to fit her if she lowered her head, leading deeper underground. It was exactly how Anne imagined a gate down to the bad place would look like.

The _schwing_ of a sword sliding out of its sheath echoed down the tunnel. That eased her nerves a bit. The feeling of leather against her fingers, even more so.

Anne never considered herself claustrophobic, but with the walls so crushingly close and the glowshroom’s light only extending about a foot or two ahead and behind her, her heart thundered harder in her ears with every step she took. The tight space would severely limit what she could do with her sword, too. Wide swings were out of the question, so that left her to rely on short, quick stabs. Fighting like that wouldn’t go well for her, especially in a space like this, and _especially_ when her opponent was a giant millipede.

Why did she choose to come down here again?

Anne shook her head. The time for second-guessing herself had passed. Now was the time for confidence and bravado, and for charging in recklessly towards certain danger. Besides, she knew fighting a giant millipede would always end terribly for her regardless of where the fight took place, if she couldn’t figure out how to turn her powers on.

Anne gritted her teeth.

Super strength. Superpower. Superhero. Think like a superhero.

_I can do this all day. On your left. I’m Mary Poppins, y’all!_

Anne frowned. None of those helped.

_Save… Martha…_

Anne’s frown deepened. That _definitely_ wouldn’t help.

Anne took another step, and had to quickly grab the walls to not lose her footing. The ground did not greet her where her foot would’ve landed. Lowering the glowshroom once she got her breathing under control, she found the path had slanted sharply downwards, leading into a gaping hole. Crouching by it, she lowered the glowshroom inside as far as her arm would allow. The hole seemed to lead to an underground chamber of some kind, but the size or its contents remained a mystery. She would’ve stuck her nose in, and tried smelling around for more clues, but the scent of the disgusting slop was overwhelming still.

There was no other option. Anne positioned herself at the edge, and tried not to scream as she let herself fall.

Anne landed with a muffled thud, and with some kind of unsettling squelching noise. Grimacing, she looked down, and saw her foot stuck in some sort of gelatinous blue-white goop decorated with flecks of jet black _something_. She was honestly scared to guess what those were.

“Got it on the sock foot,” Anne grumbled. “Of _course_ it’s the sock foot.”

Pushing back thoughts of relenting and getting a local cobbler to make her a dang shoe, Anne’s eyes were drawn to an object right at the edge of the glowshroom’s light. Some kind ovoid-shaped item colored jet black, its surface looking rough to the touch. If Anne had to guess, it was what she’d landed on would’ve looked like if she didn’t, well, land on it. She had never seen anything like it before, but oddly enough, it almost reminded her of… an egg.

Anne frantically pointed the glowshroom to every corner of the chamber, and was partway pleased and partway alarmed when she saw exactly what she expected. Dozens and dozens more of the item – definitely an egg – scattered here, there, everywhere. Seemed like she had stumbled, almost literally, into the millipede’s nest. But if this was the nest, then where’s-?

A wet, clicking noise came from behind her. Anne spun around, blade drawn.

“Whoa, mama.”

Six red eyes slowly blinked, glinting in the glowshroom’s light, looming over Anne. A pair of pincers snapped once, then twice, as the head lowered to her level. Long, ashen, segmented carapaces slithered after the head. So many legs, _too_ many legs, pattered against the ground, making those gross, wet, clicking noises. The red eyes stared, but not at Anne. She followed the eyes, to her foot still stuck in the blue-white goop of the egg remains. Millipede egg remains.

Crud.

It bristled, advancing, and Anne immediately backed away; one step, two step, until her third step was accompanied with a _crack_ and a _squelch_ that sent shivers up her spine. She didn’t even need to look; simply cringing, sucking in air through clenched teeth. The millipede snarled, spittle flying in her direction.

Well, making it mad _was_ the whole point of her coming down here.

Anne forced a grin and a shrug. “Whoopsie, stepped on more of your eggs! Sorry about that!”

The millipede charged forward. Instincts kicking in, Anne fell back upon a familiar stance, ready for anything. But she wasn’t ready for the millipede to suddenly skid to a halt, and reel back with a terrible screech. She was confused, nearly falling into a panic for a moment, until she remembered the slop she was drenched in.

Anne stood up a little straighter. “Yeah, that’s it. Get a good, long whiff of that smell.” She breathed in deep to emphasize, and immediately felt lightheaded; darkness quickly surging to the edges of her vision. God, that slop was absolutely vile. “ _Boy_ , I’d rather die!”

Anne swallowed the rising bile, and held her sword at the ready once again. The millipede shook its head, its six eyes finding their focus on Anne. One look and she knew – it hated her enough to brave the repulsive smell and attack her. Anne rolled to the left, another egg crushed under her shoulder, as the millipede lunged, pincers snapping shut at where she once stood. It twisted in place, the tail end whipping in an arc towards her. She dropped and hugged the dirt, the tail scraping past her hair and crashing against the wall somewhere in the dark. The millipede righted itself faster Anne could get her feet under her, and lunged. She raised her sword in front of her, bracing. A _clang_ echoed in the chamber as pincer met steel, Anne being spared from the worst, but the force behind the impact was enough to send her flying. She landed on her back, the wind escaping her lungs, skidding across the ground until the wall brought her to a halt.

Anne coughed, clutching her heaving chest, but the threat of the millipede was enough cause to force herself to a sitting position. With a start, she realized the hand on her chest was the one that held the glowshroom. Looking ahead, she spotted her only source of light lying beneath the hundred pattering legs of the millipede.

“Okay,” Anne squeaked, slapping the side of her head twice. “This thing is gonna kill me. Turn on, please.”

It was stupid and pathetic, but worth a shot. When nothing happened, she was not surprised.

A screech from the millipede was exactly what Anne needed to hear to tighten her grip on her sword and get her feet under her. Blade at the ready, she adopted a familiar stance, but for the second time in this encounter, the millipede’s behavior had her cocking her head. It shook its head again, even more frantic than before, screeching like it had gone mad. And none of that violence was directed at her. If anything, the millipede seemed to be keeping as much distance from her as possible. 

Anne realized why. She almost felt bad for the beast. If Maddie’s concoction nearly caused her to vomit, she couldn’t imagine how bad the slop must be for the critter.

Her near-pity vanished when the millipede stilled for a moment, eyes drawn to the ceiling, before it launched itself against the roof of the chamber and began digging upwards. Towards Wartwood.

“Wh- hey! Over here!” Anne took off in a sprint, closing the distance in seconds. “You’re supposed to fight _me_!”

Gripped tight with both hands, Anne raised the sword, and brought it down hard. A _clang_ echoed in the chamber, the blade bouncing off of the carapace without so much as a scratch. Deft footwork saved her from losing her footing, but not from losing her nerve. Disbelieving, panicked eyes fell on the sword, then shifted to the unscathed carapace further retreating upwards. Her plan had fallen so thoroughly apart in the worst possible way. They were supposed to settle it down here, where no one could get hurt. She was supposed to return to the surface with a dead millipede and a solved mystery. Her stupid powers were supposed to activate, and make short work of this whole mess.

The millipede was still escaping. No other option. Sheathing her sword, Anne leapt, grabbing onto the rear segment of the millipede, fingers digging into the tight gaps between carapaces, and held on tight.

To say the ride was rough would be an understatement, but her iron grip on the carapace barely faltered. Her fingers were like steel after years of relentless texting, and now they were being put to the test. All the dirt, and rock, and dead roots were the real threats; raining on her head, hammering against her neck and shoulders, and crushing down on her back. She’d endured them so far, but she knew one bad hit was all it’d take to do her in. She tried to count the distance traveled in her head, but gave up – it couldn’t be that far to the surface. It better be.

She considered adjusting, shifting her grip, when something hard and sharp struck the base of her neck. It didn’t break skin, but the shock the blow sent through her body was worse than any cut. A numbness followed, spreading through her limbs. Darkness crept into the edges of her vision. She knew what was coming, but still kept her grip with all her strength, holding on to the naïve notion that she could fight off unconsciousness through sheer willpower. 

A series of rumbles and cracks reached Anne’s addled ears, muffled and distant, reminding her of an erupting volcano. Light blinded her even through her hazy sight, but the rush of fresh air into her lungs was more than welcome. Screeches, horrible screeches overwhelmed her, tempting her to let the dark take over. Her grip weakened. Her consciousness waned.

The millipede jerked left, violently, and Anne couldn’t hold on. She was flung off to the side, like a flimsy ragdoll. Everything went dark before she hit the ground.

When she came to, the first thing she heard was Sprig’s voice.

“Anne! Anne, wake up, please!”

He sounded so panicked and upset, but all Anne could focus on was how his voice stung her ears. How the light irritated her eyes. How _everything_ hurts. She spent a beat wondering why, before everything came rushing back.

“Oh, thank Frog!” Sprig exhaled when Anne’s eyes shot open. “Quick, we have to get out of here!”

Sprig ushered her to a sitting position, but she abruptly brushed him off. The pain suddenly didn’t matter. Her senses rushed to absorb everything; the sounds, the sights, the tension thick in the air. And her chest seized.

Wartwood was in shambles. Buildings, homes, reduced to rubble. Frogs ran, hopped, screamed for their lives. Polliwogs cried, calling for their parents. Panic. Confusion. Chaos. And at its epicenter, its source, was the giant millipede. Its horrible, horrible screech drowned out the townsfolk’s screams. It swung its tail, sending another building crumbling down. Its pincers snapped shut, reducing a cart full of produce to splinters.

And it was all her fault. 

“It’s not paying attention to us! This is our chance!” Sprig screamed in her ear. She never wanted him to shut up more in her life. “Everyone’s gathering at-!”

“No!” Anne snapped, shoving him away. Her eyes were hot. Tears threatened to spill forth. “This is my fault! I’m not leaving!”

Sprig looked hurt – a tinge of guilt gnawed at her heart – but still placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Anne, we clearly bit off more than we can chew. And that millipede _will_ bite and chew us up if we don’t get somewhere safe.”

Anne slowly shook her head. “No. No, no, no. This can’t-” She choked. She clenched her eyes shut, fingers digging into her scalp. “I just need to-! I need-!”

A scream, followed by another, pierced through the chaotic cacophony. She recognized the voices. Her eyes shot open.

Ivy and Maddie were huddled together, cornered against the half-collapsed entrance of the town hall. The millipede loomed high over them, almost a full twenty feet in height. It snarled, a hungry glint in all six eyes.

“What?! Why are they still here?!” Sprig nearly rushed to their rescue, but held himself back. He looked back and forth between Anne and the two, torn. He wanted to save his crush and his friend, but he wouldn’t be able to reach them in time. He was helpless to do anything.

And it was all Anne’s fault, because she couldn’t figure out how her damn powers work.

Why?

She breathed, and the world fell away. Think. Look elsewhere. Change the angles.

What was the same? What was always present?

A danger. A threat. A sense of urgency. A sense of dread.

What was different?

The place? The time? The target? The reason?

The reason.

What _was_ her reason?

Now?

To kill a millipede.

Then?

To get her phone. To help Hop Pop. To save Sprig.

Anne’s hands dropped to the ground.

It clicked.

Anne barely registered when she rose to her feet. When she started sprinting. When Sprig screamed her name, calling out after her. When her stride became longer and longer with each step. When the wind rushed past her like a hurricane. When her eyes began to heat up like they’re on the verge of bursting into flames.

She barely realized when she leapt to match the millipede’s full height. When her fist collided with hard carapace, and the millipede went _flying_ , crashing into the abandoned schoolhouse, screeching its horrible screech, everything became startlingly clear.

Like the superheroes she’d watched on the big screen.

She fell twenty feet into a perfect three-point landing. Not a scratch on her besides a sore knuckle. Turning to face Ivy and Maddie, she saw blue glinting off of their wide eyes. The bewildered looks on their faces were memories she’d treasure forever.

Maddie pointed a trembling finger to Anne’s eyes. “G-glowing…”

Close, but not quite.

[Her eyes were _burning_.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5T50wYCxMM)

“H-how…?” Ivy croaked. Anne found that very funny, for some reason. Enough to make her crack a stupid grin. A lot of things made her want to laugh right now, actually. But business came first.

“Not now.” She scooped up both frogs underneath each arm – almost laughing again at the funny squeaks they made - and set her sights on where Sprig stood. She had a fun idea in mind.

She reared back, and _leapt_. Soaring ten, fifteen feet into the air, she only made it halfway to Sprig before her arc descended. She landed and launched into another _leap_ – this time higher, further, faster than before. Maddie and Ivy screamed at the top of their lungs, holding on tight to her arms for dear life. It was _hilarious_. Anne couldn’t hold back anymore. She laughed out loud, louder even than the combined screams of Ivy and Maddie. And she didn’t want to stop.

Anne came down hot near Sprig, stumbling, nearly tripping over and landing flat on her face. Her new strength needed some getting used to, she noted with another burst of laughter. Not that she cared much about making a perfect landing. She was far too giddy for it; still vibrating, still shaking from residual giggles. It took her a second to remember she still had Ivy and Maddie clinging tight to each arm. She released them, and they never looked so grateful to be back on solid ground.

Sprig came up to her hopping up and down, grinning like a wonderful idiot. “Anne, you’re doing it! Your eyes are glowing!” Stars sparkled in his eyes, as if he just saw an act of God. It sure felt like one. The look drew another round of laughter from Anne.

“Heck yeah! Up top!” Anne brought her hand up. It took her a second to realize why Sprig suddenly flinched. “Oh, dang, right.”

Ivy wheezed as she struggled to her feet. When she turned to face Anne, she was immediately drawn to Anne’s burning eyes. She took a shaky step back. “ _This_ is what Sprig meant by something up your sleeves?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Anne giggled again. “More or less.”

Maddie was drawn to her eyes as well. The difference, she took a step forward. “That is-” Seeing the normally unflappable Maddie rendered speechless – her mouth falling open, then closed, then open again – tickled Anne. “ _How_?”

A terrible, familiar screech interrupted Anne before she could answer. The sound of rocks breaking and wood snapping followed. The others flinched, while Anne was unfazed. She looked over her shoulder; the millipede had extricated itself from the ruined schoolhouse. And it didn’t look happy about it. Explanations would have to wait.

“Sprig, Ivy, Maddie,” Anne fixed them a firm look one by one, “lead the townsfolk somewhere safe, you got that?”

Ivy and Maddie were slower on the uptake, but Sprig eagerly nodded. “Gotcha!”

“And,” Anne unbuckled the strap across her chest and handed the sheathed sword to Sprig, “keep this safe for me.”

Sprig gasped, accepting the sword like a blessing bequeathed from an angel. To the side, Ivy watched the exchange with incredulity. “You’re kidding,” she said. Anne shot her a smirk.

“Remember how I sent a giant millipede flying with one punch?” she asked. Ivy’s mouth closed; she remembered alright. Easiest argument she’d ever won. Besides, swords wouldn’t help much against the millipede – she’d learned that firsthand – and the straps were starting to chafe. She didn’t need that kind of distraction.

Despite the stars in his eyes, Sprig was the one who moved first. Clutching the sword tight against his chest, he darted down the opposite road, elbowing Ivy and Maddie as he passed. Ivy was startled, but quickly gave chase after him. Maddie was the last to leave, her eyes never leaving Anne, even as she followed the lead of her friends. Even now, Anne suppressed a shiver. That girl really did have unnerving down to an art form.

Anne pivoted in place. The millipede caught her in its sights. She breathed, feeling the heat from her eyes, the fire coursing through her veins like a drug. She _loved_ it. It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. Overwhelming. As if she’d been sleeping her whole life and she was finally awakened. She was finally _alive_.

“Alright, mommy.” Anne cracked her knuckles. “Round two.”

The proverbial pistol went off. Anne took off like an Olympic runner, each stride clearing a dozen feet. She was under the millipede’s shadow within seconds. She leapt, a fist clenched and swinging, throwing her whole body into this punch. The millipede hissed, tensing like a loaded spring, and swerved.

The punch missed by a mile. The tremendous leftover momentum left Anne hurtling through the air, away from the millipede, with almost no control of herself. Any attempt to correct her course only caused her to spin in place. She spotted the millipede slithering away between buildings as she spun. It knew she was too dangerous. It knew to avoid her now. Smart.

She reached the apex of her leap before long – a couple dozen feet, she guessed - but she was still spinning out of control as she started to fall. A tower was in her way - she saw it for only a split second before she got a face full of wood and dried hay. It was a miracle she got her hands and feet positioned right moments before she hit the ground, stopping her from eating dirt. Anne spat out some hay that got in her mouth. The landing hurt, but not as much it could have. Silver linings.

Anne shot up to her full height, the effort nearly launching her off of the ground again. This super strength deal really needed some getting used to. Some proper training to better control herself would do. But that was a problem for Future Anne. Present Anne’s got a town to save. And judging from the screams, someone needed saving somewhere to the west.

That someone was a panting frog pulling a wagon filled with furniture as fast as he could, with the millipede in close pursuit. He would probably have an easier time fleeing if he abandoned the wagon – not that Anne would judge. With a running start that turned into a _jump_ , she took to the air and – “ _Parkour_!” - used a tilted pole to launch herself even higher, gaining even more air. The millipede grew closer and closer. The anticipation brought a grin to her lips. She clenched a fist and reared it back. The poor critter never saw it coming.

A _boom_ echoed across the land. Anne’s fist connected dead center on top of its head, her grin widening as the carapace bent inwards and _cracked_ under her fist. The millipede’s head crashed into the ruins of a house - Anne quickly leaping off of it and landing into a roll. The frog being chased had stopped, head turned to stare, mouth agape. Anne stared back with irritation in her burning eyes. Precious seconds that she bought him were wasting away.

“Stop staring! Run!” Her words snapped him out of his trance, and the poor frog ran off while shouting back a string of near-incoherent gratitude.

Anne spun around. The millipede was still struggling to recover. One of its pincers had gotten stuck on a steel rail jutting out of the rubble. It was a golden opportunity – one she wouldn’t waste. She sprinted closer to it and raised a foot over the trapped pincer.

“Lemme help you with that!”

Anne drove her foot down _hard_. The pincer snapped off like a twig with a toe-curling _crunch_. The millipede, now free, pulled back, letting out a ringing screech of pain. Anne allowed herself a chuckle. It might just be a mindless animal, so it wouldn’t really make sense to say it deserved it, but dang if it didn’t feel good. But her smile vanished when it began to flail erratically, like it had truly lost its mind, like that injury was the last straw. And she was in the splash zone.

Anne would’ve jumped away to safety, when her eyes fell on the pincer still stuck on the rubble. She barely gave it a second thought. She wrapped her arms around the base of the pincer, yanked it out with a shout, and swung.

A spray of black blood splattered against the rubble. Bits of chopped millipede legs scattered across the dirt. The millipede jerked away, body curling on itself, its screech rising to a fever pitch. Black millipede blood became the latest to stain her shirt, her face, but Anne didn’t care. She eyed the severed pincer in her hands, stained with black. Stars would’ve sparkled in her eyes if they weren’t already burning.

The only thing sharp enough to pierce the carapace was itself.

Armed with this knowledge – literally – she hopped back a dozen feet to a safe distance, switching her hold on the pincer like she’s wielding a sword. It’s an awkward grip, but it’ll do. Falling into a familiar stance with a toothy grin, Anne was more than ready for round three.

The millipede glared at her, six eyes staring down two, before spinning around and burrowing underground, kicking up a cloud of dust. Anne, startled, charged into the cloud, pincer swinging, but once the dust has cleared, the millipede had practically disappeared. She tensed, tightening her grip on the pincer. She whipped her head left and right, searching for any kind of disturbance on the ground. The critter could emerge from anywhere.

But that moment never came. Anne’s shoulder fell. Her hold on the pincer loosened. Was that it? Was it over?

No. Anne wasn’t convinced. It could be avoiding her again. Anne jumped and landed on the highest, closest rooftop – getting better at controlling her strength now – surveying the town from her new vantage point. She could see the town gate, where most of the townsfolk seemed to have evacuated to. She saw Mayor Toadstool trying to talk down some of the more jumpy citizens. Sprig, Maddie, and Ivy should be somewhere in there, too. She also spotted some buildings untouched by the devastation, a few stragglers rushing to the town gate, a cloud of dust picking up south of the gate-

Anne almost cursed. Of course. It had set its sights on the townsfolk.

A running leap got her halfway there. Another leap did the trick. The commotion died down among the crowd as Anne landed not far from them, but quickly picked back up with fervor. Whispers, mumbles, and murmurs were passed around. Most were of her burning blue eyes, some were of how she fell from the sky, but all were of her. Someone – probably Sprig – belted out an encouraging cheer. For a moment, she pretended she was Sasha and soaked it all up. But never to the point of basking, not yet. She still had the cloud of dust at the end of the road to worry about.

With a thunderous rumble, the ground erupted, and the dust cloud cleared. The millipede emerged, with its head cracked, a bleeding cut on its side, and missing a few legs and a pincer. It reeled back, shocked and none too pleased to be facing Anne again. It seemed like it wanted to flee again, but didn’t. Something compelled it to stay. A new glint made itself known in its eyes.

Instantly, the crowd behind her descended into panic. They were a nudge away from breaking apart, blindly running in random directions. The stragglers looking to join the crowd wisely decided to either duck inside a building or run back where they came. That was good. A panicking crowd, less so. They could get caught in the fight, and she already had enough things on her plate.

“Everyone, don’t panic!” A voice exclaimed from somewhere among the crowd – one that could only belong to her best friend. “Anne’s got this!”

Anne giggled. He just had to put her on the spot like that.

“You heard the frog!” Ivy joined in. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. “Everyone calm down, and stay behind Anne!”

The commotion simmered, even if a restless energy lingered in the air. Still better than what she could’ve done. She owed those two a swamp milkshake.

“Yes. She is our best hope.”

Even Maddie? Hot dang. Make that three.

Maddie’s addition did the trick. Almost like magic, an air of calm settled among the crowd. The panic had effectively been dealt with. Excellent. One less thing to worry about.

Now, to give them the show of a lifetime.

Anne stepped forward, dragging the pincer behind her with one hand. The millipede lifted its head, making itself look bigger, but stayed where it was. Silence reigned, not a breath to be heard. The sun above sizzled the air. Two enemies locked eyes, staring the other down. A tumbleweed rolling past wouldn’t be out of place.

This had to end now. The town had taken enough damage. Anne pushed away the buzz shaking her to her core for a moment, and tried to think. Tried to search the beast for weaknesses. For an opportunity she could use to end this fight in a single blow.

Didn’t take a nuclear scientist to figure one out. The cracked carapace on its head. The severed pincer sharp enough to pierce through its natural armor in her hand.

She’d need the millipede to make the first move. She’d need to provoke it.

Simplest puzzle she had to solve today. She curled her lips to a mocking grin, pointed a finger at the beast, then ran a thumb across her neck.

That did it.

Six eyes turned red with rage. A feral snarl rang across the land. A thousand legs charged forward, a freight train of chitin and hate shaking the earth at the speed of a hurricane. Anne answered its call. She gripped the pincer tight with both hands, holding it like you would a spear, and took off with no intention of holding back. Her target: the center of the millipede’s cracked carapace.

The distance closed. The collision imminent. Anne lunged, screamed, pincer thrusted forth. The millipede swerved.

The pincer glanced the center, instead cutting a new swath of black among the cracks along the left side of its head.

Missed. _Damn it_.

The millipede’s body _slammed_ into Anne’s gut. Air was forced out of her lungs. Something sharp dug into her side, and she could tell it broke the skin. The millipede showed no signs of slowing down, and Anne had to hang onto it for dear life to avoid death by a thousand stomping legs. The burning through her veins was the sole reason she held on, the sole reason the pincer was still in her grip, even as dark spots danced at the edges of her vision.

She could salvage this. The cracked center was within her reach. She just had to climb onto a better position, and plunge the pincer into the open wound with all her strength.

Anne barely had one leg up when the millipede suddenly jerked, skidding to a halt. Its head shot upwards in a flinging motion. The force was too much; she was caught completely by surprise. In a literal blink, she found herself flung through the air, rapidly shooting past even her highest jump. By some miracle, she kept herself from spinning out of control and maintained an iron grip on the pincer. She’d consider that a win at this point. Better than thoughts of falling to her death.

Her ascent slowed until it came to a natural stop. To a long second where she floated in midair as if gravity never existed. Against her better judgment, Anne looked down, and damn near broke out in cheer.

The cracked center was directly below her.

It was literal perfection. She couldn’t have set it up better if she tried.

Within that long second, she angled the sharp end of the pincer just right, lining it with her target above her head. She felt the burn. _Really_ felt it. Felt it scorching her from inside out, but never hurting her. Let it overwhelm her body, her mind, her senses. Let it stretch her lips into a grin so wide it hurt her cheeks.

When gravity checked in to work, she was more than ready.

It was funny how time could slow to a crawl simply because you choose to. How everything could come into sudden, perfect clarity. How you could _feel_ every minute detail of the things around you. From the smoothness of the pincer, how it threated to snap under the strength of her grip, to the heat emanating from her eyes, how it spread through her like a fatal fever, to the wind rushing past, how the warm air somehow felt cool against her heated skin, to the roar of her own voice, how it rang like a crack of thunder across the land. 

A crowd watched her far below. An audience, a witness, to this – the fiery finale. She hoped, to anyone watching, she looked exactly like how she felt.

A burning star from the heavens, bringing calamity to the land below.

A blur of blue struck the wicked beast. A cloud of brown rose to cover the earth.

When the dust settled, and the gathered frogs slowly unshielded their eyes, they saw a motionless millipede, its head pierced through and through, pinned to the ground by its own severed pincer, and standing tall upon its corpse was a human girl, the slayer of the beast, Anne Boonchuy.

It was done. Finally. Anne let her muscles loosen. Let her fried nerves rest. Let the heat from her eyes fade and the burn through her veins disperse with a serene smile. And instantly regretted it.

Her body ached all over. Her joints felt like they’d rusted over for a hundred years. The pain on her side flared, far more than before. And she was _starving_. Her stomach growled and twisted like she hadn’t eaten in days. Her head felt light, her vision growing hazy and harder to focus. It took everything in her to not lurch, to keep her feet under her.

And then she noticed the stares. Dozens of eyes focused on her. Judging her. Afraid of her. And then she noticed the destruction. Crumbling buildings. Wrecked market stalls. Gaping holes in the pathways. And it was all her fault.

“Oh. Oh no.” Her voice was small. Filled with dread and guilt. “I’m- I’m so-”

“It’s dead!” A voice shouted. She flinched; she thought that voice said something else. “It’s really dead!”

Those words were the boulder that broke the dam. A torrent of noise flooded Anne’s senses, as the crowd before her suddenly erupted in… cheer?

“We can rebuild the school!”

“No more sinkholes!”

“All of that meat will get us through the winter!”

“Those parts must be worth a fortune!”

The frogs were smiling. Laughing. Hugging. Some she saw dancing. They were _happy_. Wave after wave of relief and joy washed over Anne until she barely noticed when three familiar frogs joined her on top of the dead millipede.

“Anne!” Sprig hopped onto her shoulder. It hurt, but the euphoria was getting her through it. “That! Was! _Amazing_!” He looked at her like she’s a fairy tale come to life. “How’d you figure it out?”

Anne shrugged like it was no big deal. “Just needed the right reason.”

“You.” Anne turned to look, and saw Maddie getting close, too close. She had a funny glint in her eyes and the smile on her lips stretched too wide. “You just became an infinitely more interesting individual than you have ever been before.”

“Uh, thanks?” Anne backed away from her, because she wasn’t taking any chances. She’s at her weakest at the moment. Maddie could do anything to her and she’d be powerless to resist.

“And there goes my dream of becoming the town hero.” Ivy chuckled, but Anne saw a tinge of genuine sadness behind her smile.

“Sorry,” Anne said, and she meant it.

Ivy shook her head. “Hey, after that stunt you pulled, you’re off the hook for life in my book.”

Ivy glanced behind her at the crowd. The look on her face changed, now screaming the fact that she just had an idea. Before Anne could ask, or intervene, Ivy had spun around to address the crowd. “Hey, everyone! Look here!”

Amazingly, a good chunk of the crowd heard her, and did what she asked. Their chatter stopped, their focus turning to the four atop the dead millipede. There was a proud grin on Ivy’s face as she continued.

“Before we whip out the skewers and the carving knives, let’s first all give our praise to the hero who has slain the beast and saved the town!”

Anne blinked. She didn’t expect that. Then, almost as if the two had practiced, Sprig hopped off Anne’s shoulder to stand next to her, and immediately Ivy jumped up to stand on Sprig’s shoulders. She grabbed Anne by the wrist and raised her hand triumphantly to the air. 

“ _Give it up for Anne Boonchuy, Protector of Wartwood_!”

The crowd _exploded_. Less than a hundred frogs somehow carried the voice of thousands, loud to the point of deafening, to the point her ears stung. But she smiled. Smiled until her cheeks hurt. And she laughed. She laughed and laughed until tears stained her cheeks. Because Wartwood was cheering for her. Hooting for her. Hollering for her. Over and over, they chanted her name. And her title.

Anne Boonchuy, Protector of Wartwood.

She liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! It’s an anime!
> 
> Sorry this took so long. Personal stuff got in the way. And I had a little too much fun writing the banter between Anne and the three frog kiddos, so that part lasted way longer than I intended. But it does feel good to return to writing these very long chapters again. And I finally get to fulfill my lifelong dream of making an anime fight scene in written form. 
> 
> Overall, I was pretty pleased with the end result. Hope y’all liked it too. And I hope you liked the song I chose. Had it on loop the entire time I wrote the fights.
> 
> So that was Anne’s part done. But, that doesn’t mean the story’s over. After all, there are two more gems, and two more girls. 
> 
> Next up, purple. 
> 
> If y’all want to follow my writing and any other random shit that I get up to, check out my tumblr right [here](https://chronicler-of-legends.tumblr.com/)!


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